Lost In Translation
by erockhp7
Summary: There are twenty-four tributes in the 200th hunger games, but also hunters; twelve specially selected children whose aim is to kill all of the others. But these hunters have something hidden, something special, something no-one should find out...
1. Introduction

_*****THIS WAS WRITTEN BY SNEVERUS SNAPERS, ALL CREDIT GOES TO HER, NOT ME!*****_

**A/N: SYOT = Submit Your Own Tribute. First of all – virtually no-one finishes their SYOTs. I'm different. How do you know? I've already finished one, Kill Or Be Killed. Second of all – some writing can be quite sloppy and not great in SYOTs. I don't know what you think about my writing, that's your opinion and I of course accept that, but I don't think I've had any negative comments about my writing for my long stories so all should be fine there. Just in case, you should read the introduction for this maybe, the bit past this crazily long A/N. Then you could decide whether or not to "submit" a tribute.**

**Now! Onto the fun bit:**

**1) To submit a tribute you shall****have****to do so on PM. I am sorry if you don't have an account but there are plenty other "SYOT"s out there that will accept yours so I suggest you go over there if you have a good idea. The tribute application form alongside the list of tribute spots that have been taken are up on my profile. You can PM me your tribute form from there, or if you don't want to fill in a form before you're sure you'll get the spot PM me your gender, district and back-up district first and that means you should get the spot. I'm not promising anything mind you, just in my last SYOT someone couldn't be a part of it unfortunately because I didn't have enough spaces of the same gender.**

**2) You must answer all of the questions on there and I would like original tributes, but it is ok otherwise, just please ensure that you answer all of the questions on my form on the form you submit.**

**3) Everyone who "reserved" a tribute spot, I have PMed you the conformation of your tribute's district and gender for you to regard to as you fill out the form, make sure you do that gender and district please.**

**4) Only one tribute per person please, I know a lot of people are interested with this which is why there is only one tribute allowed per person.**

**5) Please make the tributes interesting and unique. Before I submitted a tribute who could not feel pain and was**_**grown**_**by the scientists in district five. Another time I submitted a sweet twelve year-old girl Chinese assassin for the Capitol. Those are tributes you don't see in every SYOT – and because they're so unique they stand a better chance of survival because the author finds them interesting and fun to write. Play around and find some really deep characters for me, which aren't superhuman. Please?**

**6) Have fun. Relax, enjoy yourself. This story is meant to be fun, as is fanfic overall, so make it so.**

**Primary Disclaimer: Suzanne Collins owns the hunger games, not I. If only *sighs***

**Secondary Disclaimer: This isn't any ordinary "SYOT". The thing about this is that, for "official" purposes the tributes you "submit" become mine. Within this story, of course. What this means is that I can change them, kill them off, etc. Without you whining at me saying that I killed off your tribute because that is untrue. It is**_**my**_**tribute I've just bumped off. I'm just putting this down because I want freedom to do with them as I see fit. Within this story, of course. I know it sounds kind of weird but this is to ensure you don't try and change things in this, and make it an interactive fic. It is not interactive quite simply because there is no "interacting" in it. The dictionary definition of interactive is "operating on instructions entered by somebody". You're not instructing me to do anything, that's all I'm saying. So therefore there will be no sponsoring or trivia questions. Also by submitting a tribute you are also signing up to the fact that you will not complain about them changing or dying.**

**~Snev**

_Lost In Translation_

I sit alone. No-one approaches me; no-one steers away from me. It's like I'm not here. It's like I'm a ghost. Well, that's right in some respects anyway. My name is, or was, Juliet Palmer. I was from district three. Well, before the accident. Before things changed.

"_Come on! It'll be fun!" I yell playfully at my friend, Feebie. No, not 'Phoebe'; Feebie. The shouting may keep out the bitter cold but it's too loud so I decide to quieten my voice a bit._

"_I'm not too sure..." mutters Feebie uncertainly, looking up worried at the electric fence fizzling in front of her as I beckon my hand from the adjoining roof._

"_Come on Freebie! You're such a spare machine part. We're just going to check out the new machine they're building in there." I say, calling her by the nickname I gave her which she detested so much, but it stuck and I got everyone to call her it._

"_But it's scary, and we're not meant to." Feebie insisted._

"_Do you want to be my friend or not?" I said, putting down the last card on the table. Hesitantly Feebie jumped. I grabbed onto her and tugged her onto the adjoining roof with me._

"_That wasn't that bad actually." Feebie smiles._

"_Now we just have to break in..." I murmur under my breath._

"_Break in? Break in? What do you mean 'Break in'?" Feebie almost shouts in disbelief._

"_Shh!" I say, pressing my finger to my lips, "We're on top of it now. We just need to find a way to get in."_

"_I've already jumped over an electric fence today, breaking into district three's most secure warehouses isn't exactly on my 'to do' list." Feebie insists._

"_Come on Freebie!" I whisper and tug her arm, dragging her towards the skylight I've just seen._

"_This isn't such a good idea Juliet; we should go back before we're caught. What we're doing; if we get caught we'll be whipped."_

"_Whipped shmicked, it doesn't matter. Come on!" And with that I grasp her hand and tug her onto top of the skylight with me. The glass can't hold two ten year-old bodies then and with a sudden crash and shards of glass shattering and flying into the air, cutting into flesh and stinging, biting me, Feebie and I both fall downwards, giddy in confusion, into the wake of the Peacekeeper's guns firing, rattling at us and I gulp a word out of my mouth, just managed to before I fall to the floor in a crumpled heap._

"_No."_

No. It was the first word I ever said, my parents were rather proud of me. Maybe 'yes' would have been better just at least I didn't follow after my elder brother and have a swear word as my first word, as long as it was relatively simple and didn't have to be censored out of television from the Capitol then I call that progress. So my first word was no. Ironically enough my last word was also no, as I tumbled down there. Because what I saw when I reached the bottom, inattentive to what happened to Feebie, what I saw was no machine. What I saw got my tongue cut out and got me turned into an Avox, a slave for the Capitol. I'm guessing by their reaction that only their reluctance to shoot another innocent child got me saved there, it also probably cost them their jobs too. Maybe more, maybe even their lives. I wouldn't put it past the Capitol.

Feebie died that night. Drowned; so it was told to our district. Just where do you drown in district three? There isn't an inch on water to its name. I saw the bullet hit her and her body ricochet backwards into the wall, I heard the scream of total pain at the age of ten, and I felt that. That sound is enough to rip any sane person apart, let alone a ten year-old. That sound broke me.


	2. Reading Of The Quarter Quell Card

**_***THIS WAS WRITTEN BY SNEVERUS SNAPERS, ALL CREDIT GOES TO HER, NOT ME!***_**

**A lot of you were wondering how Juliet's story relates to this SYOT as a whole. I'm afraid I can't tell you that, but it does relate. Eventually. You'll probably see more of Juliet later as well. I couldn't quite remember the Quarter Quell reasons for the 25th and 50th so bear with me on that one! ;D This quell means, here, that more tribute spots have just popped open because of the impatient scramble I got to fill the spots; everyone seemed to want to do so and I didn't really want to leave so many people without being able to participate. So therefore more spaces have been opened up with this Quarter Quell that I thought I'd do. This is a little idea that's been buzzing around my head for a while now, so I thought that I might put it into action. If you've submitted a tribute you simply can't submit a hunter now, this is because of the mass interest I had in my SYOT and the lack of places I had to fill. The list of hunters and tributes alike will be on my profile throughout this recruiting process. Basically with a hunter, they've got to be better than the average tribute for that district. That's all, and when it says 'volunteered or reaped' you have to take that as picked or volunteered for the initiation hunter test. They can be of either gender, but I want just about half and half so if you're stuck deciding what to do (if you haven't submitted a tribute alredy) then please consider a male. The list of tributes will be up on my profile. Myself, being the stupid moron that I am, has forgot who the creator of Henri Marce, district four is. And if you're going to make some more tributes please make them younger, because surprisingly I haven't had many young tributes at all and almost all of them seem to be seventeen or eighteen, sixteen at a pinch. For the hunters the same rules apply with them as tributes, as in the rules of submittion, so via****PM****please. Thank you, you'll no doubt be confused but all in explained below, so please be patient and read along. And of course, don't forget to review and check out the tribute list on my profile! ;D**

**~Snev**

President Sphinx steps out onto her balcony, her golden honeysuckle hair lightly drifting past her shoulders and her angelic features crisp and juvenile. She looks about twenty years of age, but she's been of twenty years of age for at least twenty years. With a flick at the microphone causing it to crackle in static she giggles slightly, a high pitched girly giggle like she always does on national appearances. It's all for the crowd.

"Right then," she says with a twinkle in her almost crystal eye as she pulls out the quarter quell card, "Let's start the card reading then shall we. Any objections?"

Of course there are none and she just glares at a slightly wavering hand, unsure, until it hurriedly flops back down.

"Good!" she snaps, showing her true sour colours for a second before regaining herself back into the simpering whimper, "For the 25th hunger games to show that the majority are for the death the tributes were voted for by their district. The victor was Squash Andrews of district eleven. For the 50th hunger games to show that twice as many rebels died as the Capitol citizens twice as many tributes were drawn from the reaping balls. The victor was Haymitch Abernathy of district twelve. For the 75th hunger games to show that not even the powerful can escape the Capitol the tributes were drawn from the existing pool of victors. That quell was interrupted by the rebels causing a total of a hundred tributes to be drawn in the next, 76th hunger games as punishment."

The president flinches as she says that, but just smiles mischievously as she announces the 'punishment'.

"For the 100th hunger games to show that anyone who goes against the Capitol is ill equipped there was no items in the bloodbath at all. The victor was Clarinet Sprinkle of district one. For the 125th hunger games to show that no rebel can escape the wrath of the Capitol the tributes were hand selected from the district personally by my predecessor. The victor was Belle Rune of district two. For the 150th hunger games to show that every rebel is really an animal at heart the tributes were transformed into savage mutts before entering the arena. That was a really entertaining year!" the president chortles and the rather anxious Capitol crowd does too, impatient to get to the good bit and the reading of this year's card while the president plays for time, making the whole nation impatient.

"Anyway, the victor was Tiger Woodchip of district two. Then for the 175th hunger games, my first hunger games in office, to show that even the greatest have weaknesses the best twelve tributes had one arm cut off. The victor was Ronald Pickett of district ten."

"Now for what you've all been waiting for!" cries the president and anxious murmurs flicker throughout the crowd. For the 200th hunger games, to show that there is always someone just one step behind any rebels, as well as the normal tributes there will be a "hunter" from each district."

The crowd looks around, confused and a quiet murmuring ripples across its face.

"Let me expand on that last statement," Sphinx simpers sweetly and gestures to her right at a tall, sharp looking woman who seems to have a permanent squint, "And hand you over to our head Gamemaker."

"Well, err; the hunters are basically tributes in the arena. These hunters have to be exceptional tributes, or rather, better than the average tribute. They have to get past tests and such until the fittest out of the ones selected or volunteered for the job comes through to the actual games. So these hunters will be dangerous, and after the poor tributes there. I just pity those not in an alliance, they'll be the first to go."

"So how will it work?" Sphinx prompts.

"After the hunter's own bloodbath, they will be split into pairs due to the colour of their bracelets that will be around their wrists. Some hunters may not have a surviving pair, in which case, they will go solo. These pairs are unable to hurt each other in that pair after their special bloodbath until all non-hunters are dead or it they get into the final five, in which case they can choose to split up or stay together. Hunter pairs will be chosen... carefully. If the hunters disobey this rule and attack their pair they get hurt in exactly the same way the inflicted pain on their other half, mental or physical state regardless. They are submitted into the arena when it gets to the final twelve tribute stage, to restock to the primary twenty-four again so the tributes aren't truly halfway there until they then knock back down another twenty tributes."

"Thank you," Sphinx whimpers sweetly and snatches back the microphone, her nails clawing the head Gamemaker's hand while doing so, "Well that's the Quarter Quell twist for this year."

**A/N: Just to let you know - The hunters WILL NOT, I repeat, WILL NOT have a POV of before the games. Once in the games every now and then one member of the hunter pair will have a POV how to report on how things are going, and you'll see them killing tributes. A hunter might win or they might not, that depends on how I feel about them. It's only if you're really desperate to get a tribute into the games that you can submit a hunter, I'll fill in all of the empty gaps. It's not meant to be a really main role, the main role is the 24 tributes, just the hunters are there skulking around! And I'm not doing all 36 of the reapings, train rides, interviews etc., I'll do the usual 12 reapings like I did in Kill Or Be Killed and then do all of the interviews in 1 extra long chapter! So if you're submitting a hunter I wouldn't go into great depth on their behalf because they're not going to be focused on much. D**

**The idea about the hunters being overly average strong is that so they match the final 12 remaining tributes who will be over average as well. And loads of hunters will be killed in their bloodbath anyway, about half maybe. The normal career districts are stronger than normal hunters, but not the ones from their district, well, the under average careers anyway; but the hunters go in pairs or single groups, so large alliances such as the careerswill overpower them easily.**

**The hunter's aim is to kill all tributes apart from their pair they're in until later notice. A bit confusing, yes, but that's the way it is...**


	3. District One Reaping

****_***THIS WAS WRITTEN BY SNEVERUS SNAPERS, ALL CREDIT GOES TO HER, NOT ME!***_****

**A/N: I'm just letting you lot know that currently I'm afraid this can't be my first story in line. I told myself that if I ever started anything else the Gnawing Hunger series and its sequel and prequel, Shattered Hearts and Falling for Him, would remain in top priority. And so they shall. Well, not Falling For Him, that's actually behind this in importance at the moment, but Shattered Hearts just has to be ahead simply because if I get sidetracked easily. I'm just warning you not to get accustomed to daily updates; that's all. But I do update fast, so you shouldn't be worrying.**

**I've had a few questions about the hunters and have tried to answer them to the best of my ability. I think I might have one hunter chapter before the games where the hunters all meet or something. Also one of you added that it wouldn't be fair if one of them won because they come in halfway through the games. That's not true quite simply because they won't. They'll actually come in quite early on, since I plan on having a bloodbath which will knock out most of that twelve. That's because I don't have such pathetic careers as last time – but still a career won in the last one, which is a refreshing break.**

**Thank you weaver of lore and it-was-enchanting, I hope Lenoel and Mylar are as you imagined them, any feedback whatsoever from you two is what I aim to do. This is the general format the reapings will come in. I'll decide who does the goodbyes and pre-reapings on things such as family, friends, tokens, long life stories and other such things. So everyone, especially those two, please review and tell me what you think of both of them and the format of the reapings, and my writing. Why not comment about that too? ;D**

_**D**__ISTRICT__**O**__NE__**R**__EAPINGS_

**Lenoel Karison**

Everyone glares at me as I make my way to the reapings, so suitably I glare back. I know why they're glaring at me, they weren't before, I know why. It's simple enough. Raith Dirne; my old friend - whom I killed. It was just a fit of anger, something stupid from half my life ago when I was only nine. It was all because of my appearance. No, not the ragged dark hair and dark narrow eyes nor my tall and built figure from training. No, it has to do with the huge, ugly scar running from my cheek all the way down to my shoulder.

I was, as I said, nine and had been training for a year. Raith had also been training for a year but he was eleven. We were sparring with my favourite weapon – the sword, and everything seemed to be going perfectly. I had Raith just where I wanted, backed into a corner and got the tip of my sword just at his throat. Acknowledging myself that I had won I removed and turned away just as the sword hit. Raith's sword ripped through my skin like it would do to the flimsy paper we got at school when we could be bothered to turn up instead of going to training and blood stung out of the wound like a swarm of trackerjackers. But Raith, instead of apologising, laughed. I had just been disfigured for life at the age of merely nine by himself and he just laughed at me.

So I killed him. It wasn't that hard, as I realised. You just plunge the sword straight into them and pull it back out before they can do anything; that killed him. Afterwards I covered it up, said it was an accident, a misshapen blow. But one boy, one little boy saw the way I laughed when he died, delighted at the feeling, the power, that could come to me when I ended a life. The fascination at what I had just done and what I could do. And he spread it around. So the officials believed me, if that counts of anything which of course it does, it saved me from a hanging, but the people didn't.

I think after that things started going downhill, glares are probably the best news I've had in ages. I even got an angry mob of Raith's friends crashing into my house. Of course my mother managed to fend them off while my father rand and got the peacekeepers. But by then it was too late, our house had been wrecked and the mob disintegrated and melted back into the district like never before. Fortunately everyone was alright, mother father and myself somehow escaped unscathed. But it rattled me. So I never tried killing again, I was too scared really. Not brave enough to risk it all again for that moment and feeling of perfection, of ultimate power over life and death. It feels your body like a warm brandy on a bitterly cold winters' night, the snowflakes flittering down, tiny specks of hope dancing in front of your very eyes, crisp specks resting on your skin with a smooth, melting sigh. Just like love, apparently, that feeling. Though I would never know, and anyway, love is never perfect. Killing however is.

I grit my teeth and walk up to the nearest admission peacekeeper. Unfortunately he's lower ranking so I get a scowl as he notices who I am with my name being ticked off in the eighteen year-olds box. Well there will be no more scowling, no more hating mobs or letters pushed through the crack underneath my front door nor my things disappearing and people knocking into me all of the time. There will be no more of that. Because I am ready, because I am prepared. Because today is the day I volunteer for the 200th Quarter Quell. I've been waiting for this moment all my life and the fact I am eighteen is just a sweet bonus. Today is the day I make history.

_The escort from district one whirlwinds on stage, a torrent of colours and excitement and she seems to be wearing some sort of goldfish bowl over her head which makes everything there look black and white with varying shades of grey of course._

"_Well hell-o everybody, thank you mayor and welcome to the reapings of district one!" She squeals with excitement and the whole district claps ecstatically._

"_Now, you know what this year is, don't you all? Give me a Q!"_

"_Q!" district one shouts back at the escort, she's a lot of fun actually and very excitable._

"_Give me a U-A-R!"_

"_U-A-R!" the district chants._

"_T-E-R and a Q-U-E-L-L!" The escort persists and the district shouts back energetically apart from a few devoid individuals skulking around at the back of the crowd._

"_What have you got?"_

"_Quarter Quell!"_

"_Yes, this year's Quarter Quell is going to be a lot of fun, but we all know the big question – what colour will Angelika Rune dye her hair? Now as you know, two years ago I wasn't far off with zesty lemon while it was actually lemon cream pie, but this year I hope to top that and get spot on with-" the escort whips off her large goldfish bowl looking helmet to reveal a shocking magenta pink hairstyle "magenta pink!"_

"_But you'll find out soon enough, we're going to draw the tributes now." She says and sticks her delicate hand into the male tribute bowl._

"_The male tribute is Ryder Al-"_

"_I volunteer!" cuts in an almost angry voice and the whole district whips around to see a dark haired boy with an angry glare and a hideous scar going from a check down his neck step onto the stage. Because of that they barely take in his black and white chequered shirt, black and white striped tie with long white trousers and well used trainers._

"_Lenoel Karison." He explains as he steps up into the stage._

"_Leonard, do you want to draw the female tribute?" the escort asks, gesturing to the bowl._

"_Would you take no as an answer?" Lenoel asks perfectly seriously and scrunches up his eyebrows in anger as the district starts laughing._

"_Come on, draw the name." The escort teases and he sticks a hand in and draws the first name on the top. Muttering a silent "sorry" under his breath he calls out the name, "Angelina Be-"_

"_I volunteer!" cuts in another voice and a girl swaggers to the stage, taking her time._

"_Mylar Calico here, future winner of the Quarter Quell." She says and then hops onto the stage. The crowd isn't looking at her chestnut coloured hair that waves up to her chin or the 'come near me and you're dead meat' look in her matching brown eyes. They're all ogling her thin body slotted perfectly into a dark chocolate brown mousse coloured dress, never minding the glare she's giving most of them._

"_Ok tributes; shake hands." requests the escort and the boy lets his vice like grip try to crush the girl's but it hold steady and she glares at him._

**Mylar Calico**

"Yeah yeah, I'm going to die. No need to point it out to me." I snap at the peacekeeper who tried to point out the room I am going in for goodbyes and I slump down onto the plush cushioned chair. Argh! I know I had to do it; it's my only chance of getting a half decent life in this dratted district after my father died and mother ran off with my step-father, leaving 17 year-old Mylar and my little 14 year-old sister Paisley. Suddenly 'my little 14 year-old sister Paisley' tumbles into the room. It's not for me though, it's for her. Even if her life is going to suck pretty bad if I get killed in there. That's why I have to get back now.

"What's that you've got?" I ask, breaking the silence between us and beckoning to her hand.

"Oh, it's a bronze Celtic cross thing. I found it in the peacekeeper outside's pocket. You want it?" I look at the intricate swirling snakes and twisting vines warping around it.

"Sure, why not?" I ask and feel the heavy weight of it clunk into my hand, "A token, eh?"

"Yeah, a token." Paisley answers and after a long pause of her just staring at me runs up and hugs me, "Oh Mylar, what happens if you, if you-"

"Die? If I die then Carden will look after you, smuggle you food and stuff." I've never been one for lying, white lies or not, so I just state the facts, "it's a shot in the dark but it could get us on our feet, give us a real life."

"Not if you die." There it is again, that word, die. It sounds so simple yet my voice tremors slightly when I say it as if I can't quite take it all in. But I can, I can take anything in, anything at all.

"I think I have to go now," Paisley says and prises herself off me, "You, you be careful. Stay alive for me, ok?"

"Yeah, I'll try." I say, my voice hollow as my heart is.

Then in comes Carden and Lacey, my only two friends in this district. Carden comes up to me, his blonde hair ruffled and green eyes active as they do when he is thinking. He's the only friend who didn't drop me when my dad died and I got kicked out of the posh part of district one into the rougher areas. Lacey's the first to speak – the only one who gave me a chance here in the district one poorer area, Dimity.

"Mylar, I-"

"It's ok. Save your breath. I know what's going to happen. I've accepted it." I say simply and Lacey nods, her almost golden curls bobbing as she leaves the room silently, just me and Carden now.

"Carden." I greet him formally.

"Mylar." He replies.

"I just wanted to say-" but this time it's Carden who cuts in.

"Good luck Mylar, I'll miss you." He says and follows suit after Lacey, exiting the room having dropped something on the floor. A note, I pause and then pick it up.

_Listen Mylar,_

_Somehow the room's being filmed. For footage probably, I don't know. Don't sweat, your first visitor is allowed to be private, just the next set isn't and will go on national television. Don't ask me how I know, I just found out from those up top and Lacey confirmed it. So I didn't think you'd want to talk knowing that. Just, good luck Mylar. And fight to win, fight dirty, fight catty. Do whatever you need to do. Fight to win._

_Carden,_

My heart flutters helplessly as I read it and I scrunch up the note and hide it in my pocket. So any visitors after the first will be filmed. Right. And I didn't put on a good show at all; I'm as good as dead already. But if I win this I can get out of poverty and get back on my own two legs, if I win this that is. And I very much doubt I will.


	4. District Two Reaping

****_***THIS WAS WRITTEN BY SNEVERUS SNAPERS, ALL CREDIT GOES TO HER, NOT ME!***_****

**Right then, another chapter is done in break-neck speed. I was away yesterday so I'm not counting that. ;D And I'm so surprised at the reaction I had for my last chapter! It's great all of you guys are enjoying it, I hope you continue to. :D And yes... if you want to read more of my fics *hint hint* feel free to, Gnawing Hunger being my pride and joy all *hint hint hint*. It's hard to get into but once you do it's really enjoyable. Anyway... I'd love to get another fantastic reaction like that to this chapter, so please comment on both the tributes and such. I found it really very helpful. Some people wanted to submit tributes via review for various reasons, but I'm afraid that just can't happen - I'm so sorry, but feel free to follow this. Err, also (what was I going to say again?)... ah well, I forgot. Just review please and tell me what you think. ^_^**

_**D**__ISTRICT__**T**__WO__**R**__EAPINGS_

**Blassa "Blast" Uvike**

"We want you to volunteer."

I spew my porridge all across the room in shock, burning my mouth. I look up into my mother's eyes, my chestnut meeting her airy blue. Is this some sort of wild joke or fantasy? Is this a victor thing all victors tell their daughters at their seventeenth reapings? She's just pulling my leg, that's all. Pulling my leg.

"It's true Blast," my father says and I whip around to see him staring at me in the same intent way as my mother.

"But, but. I thought we agreed next year..."

"Next year's not a Quarter Quell, honey." My mother says, reaching out to smooth my black curly hair running down to mid-back. I slap her hand away in agitation.

"But I'm not ready yet. I need to train for another year! And, and Danto, he tried to-"

"I know what your boyfriend tried to do; he's cooking in a cell at the moment because of it. You refusing to press any charges was all that saved him from the rope you know, rumour has it that it's going to be a public whipping though. With him as the subject. But I'm not talking about your current boyfriend, I'm mentioning you, your-" mother falters slightly, shaking.

"Your ex." Father finishes for me and I see his glare meet my eyes.

"My ex?" I ask for a moment and then realisation meets my eyes, "you wouldn't."

"Wouldn't we? Maybe we should give the peacekeepers a little friendly shove in the right direction of what happened to Corv then." states my mother, stirring around the porridge in her bowl tactfully.

"But that's blackmail!" I protest.

"Just a little friendly shove in the right direction." Says my father warmly, putting a reassuring hand on my shoulder and giving it a tight squeeze which I hurriedly shake off in disgust.

I'm cut off replying by my younger sisters tumbling down the stairs energetically. Jessa, Kamble, Missa and Hannzi giggle as they almost troop down the stairs.

"And he says to me-" Hannzi, the youngest finished with a whisper in their ears and they all crack up laughing.

"Blassa has something to say to everyone, don't you Blast?" my dad prompts and my sisters whip around, their eyes locking angrily with mine.

"Uh, yeah. I'm going to be, today, I mean, well, kind of volunteering for the hunger games." I manage to get out. There's a stunned silence that breaks even the girl's shrieking charisma.

"Can I have her room mummy, please?" Missa begs suddenly and then a sudden outbreak of war has gone over about who will have all my stuff when I'm dead. Which I am not planning to do, by the way – dying, I mean. Or give away any of my stuff for a matter of fact. Suddenly my elder brother turns up, Maklo. He clasps my shoulder like father did and squeezes it reassuringly.

"You'll do fine Blast; the arena's rough. I should know that. My time in it was far from perfect, but you'll do fine." And with that he's gone leaving me to die down my sisters, head off to the reapings and put my life on the line.

"_Thank you mayor!" trills a funny looking Capitol man with plucked green eyebrows and deep pink swirling hair with orange blows frosting its presence. His flower suit is absolutely ridiculous and there aren't just flares on his trouser legs; oh no, you wouldn't stop there. There are flares in places no-one even knew flares could be until now._

"_Now everyone's very excited for the Quarter Quell, as we all know!" he calls and winks at the eighteen year-old girl's section causing them to shudder._

"_So for the 200th__hunger games let's see who is the lucky ducky then, shall we?" he calls and plunges his hand into the male reaping ball with the distinct murmurs of '_ducky_' coming from the audience._

"_So the lucky guy is none other than Raym-"_

"_I volunteer!" barks a gruff male voice and the male escort rolls his beady black eyes._

"_Sure sugar, what's your name?"_

"_Rex Bones." He growls and then sits stonily on the seat back behind the man, not saying anything else at all. The escort winks this time at the seventeen year-old girl's section and clasps another name out of the crystal orb in front of him. Realising his mistake he dips it back in and draws on from the female orb instead._

"_Whoopsie Daisy!" he calls while he does so getting quite a few angry growls from the district. They really don't like their escort at all._

"_The female tribute is Isabelle Garnish. Isabelle Garnish anyone?"_

_Slowly a fourteen year-old girl moves at a snail's pace towards the stage, certain that someone will volunteer for her. Suddenly a flicker of panic erupts her smooth and certain features when no-one calls. Reluctantly a voice calls out of the seventeen year-old female section of the district._

"_Yeah yeah, I'll volunteer."_

_She leaps up to the stage, hoisting herself up the front in one bound and Isabelle happily returns to the fourteen year-old section to make place for a girl with black tumbling hair down to her back, a small crescent shaped cut on her chin and freckles spread across her face but mainly centred on her cheeks. Her simple black t-shirt and short shorts barely stick out from the rest of the district as she grasps the microphone._

"_Blassa Uvike. But you lots can call me Blast." And with a seriously enforced wink she sits down and tries to sit back and relax._

"_Well, shake hands then tributes." The escort grunts and both tributes reluctantly place their hands in the other's grasp._

**Rexter "Rex" Bones**

"Oh Rex!" my mother calls, running into the room, "I can't believe you did it. I'm so worried, what if you die. I couldn't bear to lose both my sons to these brutal games."

"I will be fine." I say simply.

"But what if-"

"I will be fine." I insist, my already gruff voice getting deeper and more commanding. My mother blinks for a few seconds as if clearing her thoughts and then nods at me.

"Of course, you will be fine." She then steps back for my father. I may have calmed my mother but my father is no pushover, he doesn't frighten me, nothing frightens me anymore, if it ever did, but the way he panics around me frightens me, prodding and poking, tryig to get to the bottom of what's wrong with my brain. When I was born it turned out that the right side of my brain was on the left and my left side of my brain was on the right. It had effectively switched over. No-one knows what consequences this will create and to be perfectly honest I don't actually care. I don't care about much anymore.

"Since I couldn't talk you out of this I want you to have this; your token." My father says and presses our family emblem into my hand in the form of a ring, carved delicately into it as a family engraving. It's a sort of seal ring, the type you would use to seal waxed letters in the past. A small snigger just has to snort in my mouth when I see it, but I quickly surpress it. I push it back from my face into my father's hand.

"I don't want it." I say bluntly and truthfully and my father's face burrows into confusion for a few seconds before regaining itself.

"What? Do you want something else, I have-"

"No. I don't want a token. They're a waste of time, a distraction in the arena and can be used as a weakness against their owner. I don't want it." I repeat again.

"Listen son, I know that after what happened to Lockyer might have turned you sour slightly but-"

"Locky died in the final two, killed by the district one male. He had a token and he stayed with the careers past the split. None of which I am planning to do for your information."

"He _died_ in there, son and so did part of you."

I look up into my father, a spitting image of myself in almost every way. From his body reaching far past six feet in height, with broad shoulders and a stocky build to his has prominent muscle tone and lightly tanned skin. We're almost identical really; our light brown scruffy hair and deep blue eyes are the only things that set us apart. His are slightly deeper than mine, and hair a tiny bit neater; slightly different, but similar. I look up at my dad and say what I have been feeling since a long time ago.

"I have always been dead."


	5. District Three Reaping

****_***THIS WAS WRITTEN BY SNEVERUS SNAPERS, ALL CREDIT GOES TO HER, NOT ME!***_****

**I have allowed laralulu to admit by a review because she will probably be able to do PMs later since she has an account at the moment, just she is banned at the moment to do PMs, but she might be fine later so I've let her in. Mainly because she was very persistant and I didn't wat her tribute to go to waste. That's only a hunter anyway and is a ONE OFF. We have one hunter spot which we need to fill, so anyone new would be a pleasure. Great, great, great. Brilliant feeback from you lot, great to know. Everything's good, didn't like this chapter personally bu ah well. Here we are then, enjoy and the two creators especially review, everyone else, yes please.**

_**D**__ISTRICT__**T**__HREE__**R**__EAPINGS_

**Lili-Rose Sting**

"So you don't want to find out at all?" the new girl to our 'clan', Poppy, asks me.

"They abandoned me when I was a baby and dumped me on my aunt and uncle. Why should I want to know about them?" I answer, continuing walking along the street alongside my friends.

"But they're you're parents." Poppy insists.

"Can we drop it?" I snap hastily and I notice my two other friends, Ella and Diana give each other a weird look. Poppy just looks down at her feet, face slightly sunk due to my burst of anger.

"Come on, we're going to be late for the reapings." I order and march off, my friends following in my wake like little dependant puppies, waddling along at my heels. I can't believe them sometimes. They just don't understand me much. When everyone looks at me they immediately think I'm some sort of 'it' girl. It's probably my appearance. Shoulder length blonde hair, misty grey eyes, tall, curvy figure. Yes, I'm beautiful. I'm not about to deny it. But because of my looks, because of what I was born looking like, people seem to think I'm incapable of being clever, like I'm some sort of dressed up airhead. Well let me tell you, far from it. I pride myself on my intellect, not my looks, although I have both.

"Lili-Rose Sting." I point out to the peacekeeper bossily, pressing my finger firmly down on the name and pressing on the paper so it creases slightly against his clipboard.

"Ok, you're through." He says meekly and ushers me through towards the others.

That's the thing about living in district three; people here are just so _weak_. There's barely any spunk in this district. I mean, we have our bullies and airheads, all these categories and we are all, using stereotypical methods, sorted into one. It's just so stupid and annoying. Yet that's the way it has always and will always be and not anything I do will stop that. Ever.

Ella, Poppy and Diana join me in the fourteen year-old girls' section and I grin politely at a couple more people, trying to seem civil at least.

"Lili-Rose." Poppy insists, tugging my arm. I whip around to see her.

"Yes Poppy?" I ask simply.

"Why don't you care about your parents, I mean, they're your parents?"

"They don't care about me. That's why." I say simply and turn back only to be tugged back by Poppy again.

"Lili-Rose."

"What is it now?" I snap.

"What's in that locket of yours?" she asks, pointing at the silver heart shaped locket hanging around my neck. I feel my cheeks flush red and turn around away from her, slowly fingering the cold silver and the designs on it. Inside this locket is basically the only picture of my parents I have, the only snippet of my former self before they dumped me with my aunt and uncle, and I'm not losing it. Ever.

_A pink ball of fluff bounces onto the stage and the tributes gasp as they realise that they're looking at their escort._

"_Thank you mayor!" she chirps, "Now today I'm going to introduce this reapings with picking lots as always. Ladies first, obviously."_

_The district nodded in an absent minded way, they weren't the type to step up and fight for anything, not after what happened the last time they tried anything._

"_Lili-Rose Sting."_

_A blonde haired girl slowly inched her way forward to the stage, face confused and frightened. She edged up to the stage from the fourteen year-olds section and smiled weakly at the camera before hurriedly taking a seat next to the mentors of district three._

"_Now we have the male tribute, it's Wolf Cain!" The mentor announced, reading the slip._

_The boy from the eighteen year-old section didn't look even slightly surprised. He simply stood up and walked to the stage as if he had been expecting this all along._

"_Wolf Cain, don't I recognise that name?" asks the escort, glancing from mentor to tribute, "Oh! Wolf Cain Jr., you're Wolf Cain Sr.'s, son!"_

_The mentor and tribute nodded civilly and eyed each other carefully. Now when the crowd noticed it, it did make sense. They looked very alike and they share brown beady eyes, a fit muscular body, glasses resting on their nose almost impatiently alongside scruffy brown hair and light but pale skin._

"_Well this is a revelation then, isn't it?" the escort coos._

_The tributes reluctantly nod and the girl suddenly rises up from her seat and taps the escort on the shoulder._

"_Excuse me, but can we hurry up here, don't want to be sitting around all day."_

_The audience stared at the stunned girl who had suddenly started trying to boss the ball of fluff around. Wind might be able to move it by its looks, but I don't think her words did._

"_Just sit back down." The ball of pink fluff hissed and Lili-Rose shrugged and sat back down on the seat, trying to relax._

"_Shake hands then tributes!" the escort cries, flusters._

_The girl tribute warmly shakes the male by the hand while his vision wanders off elsewhere, centred on his father's angry glare._

**Wolf Cain**

I hate it whenever someone says 'I'm dying here', because they don't know death. They haven't danced in its licking flames. I have. Three days. Without food, without water. Spent? Locked in a cupboard by none other than Jordan Karson, the boy who bullies me. Or bullied me. Now they never see me so they don't bother, I've learnt to slip into the background and not be noticed. Not by me, not by you, not anyone. Just silence. I's simple enough, I go by the principle that the best place to hide a spanner is in a box of spanners, not in a machines I found out soon enough. That really gave the meaning to the words 'spanner in the works'. The thing was that he used to be my friend but he was jealous about my father being a victor, which he shouldn't be. It's not something you want, knowing that any day you will be reaped and picked to die. And that day was today in the quarter quell. It was my last year so I knew I would be picked, it was just going to happen wasn't it? I don't know why but that phrase came to mind as I sank into the plush cushioned goodbye room, lost in my thoughts.

Then the door knocks, a loud rapping sound, and Lynx, my fourteen year-old younger brother walks in accompanied by my mother.

"Oh Wolf, what will we do?" mum asks me and I just smile weakly at her, something I find I've been very good at doing lately.

"Wolf, get home for me ok?" Lynx asks causing me to nod silently. They've got used to me not speaking very much, I find it helps to make the words you do use convey and mean more. Without speaking I can tell they're teetering on the edge, on the balance of tears. I reach out my hand and ruffle Lynx's hair like father used to do before he got busy and tied up with the mechanics he takes as his victor's hobby.

After a while of sitting in awkward silence with advice being thrown at me I await no-one else, yet the door creaks open. And I see my one and only friend, Kally Kusmic, wander through the doors.

"Wolf, you have to find water."

I crinkle my brow slightly but I understand what Kally means, she's usually like that, speaks in a way that makes perfect sense but just isn't _normal_. Not that I'd know what normal is anyway.

"It's important. And you need a token."

With that she presses a gold ring into my hand, pure gold? I crease my brow in confusion and then note something is on it. I look closer and she it's an engraving – '_the wolf shall not fail_'. A small smile greets me as my minds plays havoc with the information given.

"Where did you get it?" I ask and Kammy smiles.

"I made it, didn't I? My big project at work while no-one was looking. Look at it, took me two years to make in spare snippets of time. 'Course I didn't break any rules doing that, did I? Was in my spare time and I found the ring originally on the floor. But the engraving's my work. I saved it for another time..." Kammy's voice drifts off half way through the conversation.

"Thank you Kammy, oh thank you." I smile and leap up, wrapping my arms around her. It feels so odd to be doing something like this, I haven't acted this way since Jordan, my so called friend, locked me in that cupboard.

"Thank you." Kammy says, which causes me to think while she slips out of the room. I raise the ring to my face.

'_The wolf shall not fail_.' I just hope it's right.


	6. District Four Reaping

****_***THIS WAS WRITTEN BY SNEVERUS SNAPERS, ALL CREDIT GOES TO HER, NOT ME!***_****

**A/N:**So yes, yet another reapings chapter from me. I hope you enjoy, read "I Remember" and all of my other stuff, yada yada yada. Reviews? Yes please! ;D

_**D**__ISTRICT__**F**__OUR__**R**__EAPINGS_

**Henri Marce**

To volunteer or not to volunteer, that is the question. And the answer is quite simply decided for me – to volunteer.

I never wanted this; I never wanted to train, to go through all of this just to die at the end of it like my grandfather. But my parents did. Maybe it was the way they both waited patiently until their eighteenth reapings to volunteer just to find they were beaten to the post by a bloodbath each at the same year. Even district twelve outlived us then, we were the laughing stock of Panem. And my parents blamed themselves. So somehow the way the address me this morning comes at no surprise to me at all.

"You ready to volunteer son?"

"Of course father, mother," I say, nodding my head and then decide maybe a bit too late that the snide remark that I let slip out of my mouth maybe wasn't the best thing to do, "I will succeed where you failed."

"And win the games?" asks my mother firmly, expecting a certain 'yes' from me.

"And volunteer successfully," I add almost snidely.

"If you don't do this we'll make you a hunter, you know that, put your name forward."

"Of course," I nod, "But you do know I'm only thirteen?"

"Of course we know our own son's age," barks my father and my head hangs slightly in shame, "Just do us proud, son. Do your grandfather proud."

"As you wish," I say slowly and subtly before excusing myself from the breakfast table and shuffling from there out of the door on the way to the reapings. As soon as I leave I feel a distinct puff of grateful air bellow out of my lungs with the door slamming behind me. I know this is really when they are forcing me to do this. If I don't they'll just put me forward as a hunter or force me in the next five years of reapings I have left. I might as well get it over with; no point dragging my life on longer than it's needed.

I finger the long green strip of fabric tied firmly around my wrist. To anyone else it would be meaningless, worthless. But to me? To me this is a treasure past compare. I never knew my grandfather. All I know is that he was eighteen with a pregnant fiancé when he volunteered for the hunger games to forge his family a living, even then my mother wheedling her way around, forcing people into volunteering. She forced father to try too, trying to get anyone close to her to volunteer after she failed. It was pathetic really, he volunteered and became like her; heartless, selfish. Thinking only of the victor's glory they would carelessly rob off their so called loved ones. Well you know what; if I win then I just might not share my victor's spoils with them. If all they're going to do is needlessly bully me into sacrificing my life in the hope that I might just bound back with some money than they are seriously misguided and haven't got a hope in the world of understanding their son's true feelings.

That's it then. I will win the hunger games but I won't share my money with them, I'll see to that. I'll disinherit them, my own parents. That should set them right. But I'll have to win first, and that's one high hurdle to jump.

_A giant fish flopped onto the stage causing the people of district four to scream high pitched girly shrieks, including the eighteen year-old boys which afterwards caused them to blush in realisation that the escort suddenly stepped out of the giant fish costume and winked at the district excitedly. He was quite an old man with plastic looks and skin of a glittery golden hue, his hair spiked up alongside it waving slightly while relishing in its aquamarine colour and he giggled inwardly at the terrified reaction the district had given._

"_Ok, ok; keep your wigs on ladies, it's only a state of the art giant fish costume. Though I don't quite know why you got more scared of it than the giant wolf or the giant bear the last year, the worst was the giant squid though wasn't it? That really got you screaming," he laughed again to himself happily, chuckling away._

"_So I guess we should start with the man shall we?" He sighed and plunged his hand into the reaping ball, "Algae Fung; Algae Fungi anyone?"_

"_I volunteer," calls a voice and a thirteen year-old boy strides up to the stage, his brown hair rippling in the salty sea breeze, almost unnatural dark blue eyes seemingly winking and his hand waving in the air revealing a broken index finger which has been hastily patched up in a rather bad job._

"_And you are?" asks the escort excitably._

"_My name's Henri Marce and I'm going to win these games, they're going to be a piece of cake. Everyone here is so stupid, it's like competing with three people!" he says and an 'ooh!' rushes across the excited crowd._

"_Nice to know Henri, take a seat. Now joining you up there will be Desiree Fontaine!"_

_The cameras around the district scan around, finally settling on a shocked face in the sixteen year-old girl's section. Her face looks pretty alongside icily blue eyes which almost seem to rip into your very bare soul and long silky black hair tumbling past her shoulders and almost down onto her waist. Slowly, very slowly, a smile creeps onto her face and she steps up and makes her way to the stage. The district is as cold as her eyes on the volunteering front and the cameras pick up a voice muttering 'I'm not volunteering for_her._' The whole of Panem gets the message projected across its country and Desiree smiles sweetly, hitches up her short bright red skirt slightly revealing her leg slightly to the collective gasp of the elder male members of the district and whips the microphone out of the escort's hand._

"_Good to know darling," she purrs at the voice that spoke earlier, "because I'm not having a flatfish like you volunteer for me anyway, it would make a bad impression of our district if_both_of our tributes were to die in the bloodbath," she finishes, eyeing her male counterpart with evident strong distaste._

"_Well then shake hands!" the escort cheerily calls, seemingly unaware of the freezing cold atmosphere that has built up around the two girls and ushers the two tributes to shake each other's hands who reluctantly do so._

**Desiree Fontaine**

I hate this; I really, really hate this. With a suggestive and flirty wink to the peacekeeper at the door of my goodbye room I wander in after having thrown off my guards and sigh as I collapse into the puffy cushions that lace the seat that I sink into.

"Let them in," I command to the peacekeeper that wanders up to my door to say something clearly to me with a mere flutter of my eyelid towards the visitors outside. In a mere glance I can tell it's my thirteen year-old younger sister and my father. My mother would have been here too if it wasn't for, for... it doesn't bear any thought thinking about so I cut it out of my mind simply and turn it to my younger sister who tumbles in.

"Desiree, why wouldn't anyone volunteer for you, and why did you call that girl a flatfish?" my younger sister asks me, maiming innocence for my father so I play along and add a face of mock surprise to my face.

"You mustn't call people that, they can get offended," I say and smooth her silky black hair like mine back a bit and then lean and whisper into her ear, "Unless it's that freak Carol who does nothing but spend her time in a book, you can call her a flatfish anytime you want."

My whisper causes a giggle from Charmontine; or Charmy as I like to call her and a slight stern look from dad.

"You ok?" I grunt, showing a rare form of affection to dad.

"Yeah, my eldest daughter's just been condemned to death two years after the death of my wife. I'm just _fine_." He grunts unhappily.

"Great, you can sod off then," I say calmly and gesture to the drooling peacekeeper like a little pet puppy to pull him out. He gets dragged off and I plant a lipstick smothered kiss onto Charmy's cheek before asking her to go too.

"Love you past death Charmy," I call at her as she smiles and gives me a little wink like I did to the boys at my reaping just half an hour or so ago and then the next person bursts in. It's Preston, Preston White. He's just about the only person in district four who will put up with me.

"Preston," I smile and he walks over to me and awkwardly stands up near me with an awkward soppy smile, unsure of what to do.

"Saying good luck or something is customary," I say into the awkward pause between us.

"Of course, good luck Desiree." Preston grins at me and I nod. He exits almost immediately and I feel like breaking into tears as a whirlwind of emotions storm through me. Why didn't I say anything? I'm confident I can win these games after two years of training since my mum's death but what if I don't? I must admit I have held feelings past what I can compare to Preston as he hangs by me like a henchman all of the time. If I get back, no, _when_I get back I'll dump my current two boyfriends and see if I can go out with Preston instead then, as I really wanted. There, it's sorted. Easy, simple. Yet somehow it doesn't seem so when I think it over.

When I get back, or is it really _if_ I get back?


	7. District Five Reaping

**Erock is here to stay now, and I'm sorry this isn't my best writing. I'm having a really hard time writing these reapings. Please enjoy my very short writing, and review too! :)**

* * *

><p><em><strong>Helix Fronds POV<strong>_

"Hey, Splint, come on to breakfast, and you too Felix." My mom calls, and of course she calls me last, so I scramble up, make my bed, get dressed, and run into the kitchen before my brother does, and I greet her, trying to get her attention.

"Oh, hey Helix, how's it going?"

"I'm fine, how are you?"

"I'm good," she says, and my brother comes trotting into the kitchen, still half asleep. Mom says, "Hey Splint, how are you, and what do you want for breakfast."

"I want some pancakes," I say, before Splint answered.

"Um, I just want some toast, I'm not that hungry."

"Hey Felix, is there anything else you want? I don't think it would be smart to just make pancakes for one." Of course, if Felix doesn't want pancakes, then no one can have them. It's also his first Reaping year, so he has to get extra attention.

"Never mind, I'm not hungry." I say, and go into the bathroom, so I can inject my steroids into me. They are the best thing to have been invented, ever. They make me fit in, and that's awesome. If I didn't, I would be a nobody, and no one would understand me. The only people who do understand me are my friends, Sena and Laurel, who understand and care for me. Sena is a guy, and Laurel is a girl, and they are very special. I inject the steroids, and get dressed into my reaping clothes. A dark green polo, and beige corduroy pants. I walk downstairs, and head out the door. I start walking down to the town square, when Sena and Laurel sneak up on me, and we walk to the Reapings together. Dade Myama, our district's idiot escort, comes up and pulls out the girls name from the ball. In her scream of a voice, she says, "Emmie Slats," and she walks up, looking pissed off, and stays away from the escort, the escort now grabs the boys name, "Helix Fronds." No fucking way. No, I must be determined, I walk up to the girl, and shake her hand. I will come home.

_**Emmie Slats POV**_

"Hey, honey," my mom says as I'm eating breakfast, "Could you go and wake up your sisters, and tell Brads to get dressed, and dress Lolli?"

"Sure mom, I will."

"Thanks."

I walk upstairs and wake up Brads, which is short for Brassillian, and tell her to get dressed for the reaping. She has the same frizzy red hair as me, but she doesn't have my green eyes, that look like nuts. I walk back into the bathroom, and put my hair in a ponytail. I smile into the mirror, and see my uneven, but perfectly white smile. I then go and put Lolli into her clothes, and take her downstairs. We eat breakfast, and head down to the square. The weird escort Dade Myama dives her hand into the reaping ball, and pulls out the girls name. "Emmie Slats." No, that bitch didn't say my name, I think as I slam my fist down. I walk up to the stage and stay as far away from the escort as possible. She calls out the boys name, and he walks up with determination. I know what I need to do to get back to Lolli, and I will do just that.

* * *

><p><strong>Again, I'm sorry this isn't my best, and, as always, enjoy. :)<strong>


	8. I'm Sorry

I have two reasons to say this: One, I'm sorry that I was gone for so long, but I got caught up in school, and had a big writer's block, so none of my stories got updated. I'm really sorry for that. Another reason was my computer broke, and I had to wait to get a new one. That's an excuse, but it's valid. I'm also sorry because these stories are going to have to be taken down. FanFiction is cracking down, and deleting all of the SYOT's and most M rated stories. The reason mine haven't been taken down is because I haven't posted in forever. That's a good thing, and it gives me time to tell you this. All of the chapters are backed up, so I will have them. If FanFiction settles down, I might post them again. These stories will be taken down in two days, but don't worry. My other story will be continued, and I will be posting more stories later in the summer. If you want to stay updated on these stories, add me to your author alerts. I'm really sorry guys, but with school, writers block, and a broken computer, nothing got updated. I aim to fix that with my other story, and the new ones I post. I promise.


End file.
